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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432628">The World's Most Annoying Neighbour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redalader/pseuds/redalader'>redalader</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Pining, and there was only one torch, annoying neighbours to lovers, at some point there is a blackout, baz is in uni and simon is working hard, city living AU, they live across the hall from each other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:08:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redalader/pseuds/redalader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz's new neighbour, Simon Snow, is at his door every two seconds, asking to borrow sugar, flour, umbrellas, batteries, everything but the kitchen sink. It's extremely irritating, but what's worse is Baz might be slightly in love with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Snowbaz Sweethearts Fic Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Tea and Scones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjjakbanjjak/gifts">banjjakbanjjak</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! happy valentines day banjjakbanjjak &lt;3 I really hope you like this !! </p><p>there is no magic here except the magic of love, but there is hopefully just as much city life and yearning as you like! </p><p>(unfortunately no libraries but there are two books !! ;D)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>Unbelievable. That was the door, <em>again.</em></p><p>It’s not as if I was busy, it was the weekend and I had no assignments due, but it’s particularly hard to enjoy a Saturday when your day is haunted by the worlds most annoying neighbour.</p><p>Before Simon Snow had moved in, his name was scrawled across the buzzer downstairs - Snow. The landlady had told me he was my age and I have to admit I was intrigued. I spent a week fantasising about this Snow, I thought it would be nice to have a new face in the building, especially one that was under the age of 50. I thought we could be friends, but the first time I saw him he had the door to his flat open and was eating cereal on the kitchen counter with nothing on except his boxers.</p><p>I couldn't help but be disappointed.</p><p>“Hello!” Snow gave a cheery wave, ignoring the clear scowl on my face. He was in the same tracksuit as this morning, only now there was something red and sticky running down the front of it. <em>Typical.</em></p><p>“What?” I snapped.</p><p>“Sorry,” he ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tic he must have learned from some Siren. I was sure there was some magic to him like that, something supernatural that made me fancy him. I don’t think my type was usually this slovenly, yet, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since the day he moved in.</p><p>His hair, his eyes, his freckles, the mole on his neck.</p><p>Disgusting, really.</p><p>“Well?” I pressed again.</p><p>“I just wondered if you had any sugar?”</p><p>“Sugar?”</p><p>“Yeah,”</p><p>“What on earth do you need sugar for?” I liked to think of myself as a patient person, but something about the combination of Snow’s incompetence and my inexplicable attraction to him gave me something of a short temper.</p><p>“Just for my tea.”</p><p>“You know we have a shop downstairs, right?” I glared at his bare feet. Did he not own shoes? Or would he ask to borrow mine at some point?</p><p>“Yeah, but I only need a teaspoon.”</p><p>When this annoying habit of his first started, I would slam the door in his face. Sometimes, I even managed a few insults in, but he kept coming back like a stray cat and I realised the only way to get him to leave was to feed him.</p><p>I poured some sugar into a mug and told him to keep it, I didn’t want him to make a trip back here to give me it back.</p><p>I just wanted to be left alone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>The bloke who lives next door to me is a bit of a tosser.</p><p>The first day I moved in I stuck out my hand to say hello, and he sneered at me and walked into his flat without a word. I thought maybe he had just had a bit of a bad day, but after I had finished unpacking (a week later) I realised I had no tea so I knocked on his door to borrow a teabag and he threw a box of Tetley’s down the hall.</p><p>“At least he gave you some teabags,” Penny told me, because the flat I moved into was so far away from anyone I knew, and my room was tiny and she wanted me to feel as if I wasn’t living next to some evil goth man.</p><p>I wasn’t going to let him walk all over me, I was good at fighting back, so I stayed clear of him for a while, but then one day I forgot my keys and I was absolutely bursting for a wee.</p><p>“Can I use your toilet?” I asked, feeling like a right muppet in my muddy work boots and a TESCO bag in hand.</p><p>“No.” Baz was about to slam the door but I caught it with my foot.</p><p>“I’ve lost my keys,” I explained and he looked me up and down in that condescending way he always did.</p><p>“Fine but wash your hands.”</p><p>“Obviously.” I scoffed.</p><p>Stepping into his flat was insane, it was so different to how mine looked. Bigger, but darker too, like mine was the side of the building that got all the sun. <em>Maybe that’s why he was such a grump.</em> The walls were covered with art prints and there was a fireplace in the living room, and one of those weird looking armchairs with a wooden rim around it.</p><p>It was about as neat as I expected, everything polished and varnished, I think he must have spent most of his day cleaning.</p><p>The bathroom was pretty standard, aside from the towels with a coat of arms sewn into them. <em>His family crest,</em> I had learned later when I had seen the same mark on his handkerchief. (Who the hell uses a handkerchief?)</p><p>I really didn’t like him, he always talked as if he was so much better than everyone else, but there was something a bit off about him too. His work hours were strange, he said he had a job but he only ever left the house in the afternoon and came back sometime in the evening, I never saw him with shopping bags and had only seen him interact with people over the phone.</p><p>Did he have friends? A job? A hobby? I heard him playing violin sometimes, he was good, but as I had never actually seen the instrument I doubted it was even him. Maybe it was a distraction? Maybe he played violin music to hide whatever secretive calls he was taking.</p><p>I told Penny my theory that he was some drug dealer’s son come to set up this borough as his new drug base, but she just told me to get out more.</p><p>I did get out, I went to the pub after work and met up with my mates at the weekends, but when everyone was busy and I had the flat to myself, how was I not supposed to think about Baz? Sat over there, in some vibrant florals, acting like a gift to the universe.</p><p>So, whenever I had a day off I would always make an excuse to check on him, to try and figure out what he was doing, whether he was drug dealer or crime boss, or even a vampire (dark flat with no sunlight, handsome lad with dark hair and pale grey skin, it would make sense.)</p><p>Today was no different. I was sat watching tv in my trackies, eating a stale TESCO sandwich I hadn’t managed to eat yesterday, when I heard him playing the violin. The idea of him lounging on his fancy couch playing music made me furious.</p><p>Penny recommended doing something to take my mind off it, like going to the pictures or taking a walk, but the rain was pouring down and all the films that were out right now looked a bit rubbish. I thought a distraction was a good idea though, and I was feeling like something sweet after that horrid sandwich.</p><p>I thought I could bake something. I didn’t have all the ingredients, but I could borrow some from Baz, distracting me from Baz while also letting me see what he was up to.</p><p>“You’re lucky he doesn’t mind you popping over to his house for things.” Penny had said when I described my latest venture – I needed to borrow an onion off him for a bolognaise.</p><p>He definitely minded, I could tell he was irritated with me every time I asked for something, but he always gave it to me anyway. Maybe, deep deep down, he wanted to suss me out as much as I wanted to suss him out.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>The wind outside was causing my windows to shake and I cursed whatever builder installed them right above the radiator so the little heat that it generated went straight out the window.</p><p>I was always bloody cold, and this flat seemed to delight in making me colder. A shower that never quite warmed up, a fireplace with no chimney and three small radiators to heat the whole place.</p><p>There was a knock on my door.</p><p>“Snow,” I muttered. I had given up on trying to read Paradise Lost for class and was just sat watching whatever rubbished passed for Saturday afternoon TV. At least the worlds most annoying neighbour would provide me with some entertainment.</p><p>“Can I borrow some flour?”</p><p>“Flour?” I decided to indulge him.</p><p>“I’m making scones.” He smiled, he had one of those smiles that encompassed most of his face. Endearing. Gorgeous. Repulsive.</p><p>“Can you not afford shoes?” I said, glaring down at the slippers he had on. I had seen him in work boots before but I had started to believe those were legitimately the only shoes he had.</p><p>“Have you not heard the rain?”</p><p>“An umbrella then?”</p><p>“Do you have flour or not?” He snapped and I grinned. I liked seeing how red his face got when he was angry, and that ridiculous way his brow furrowed. (What can I say? I am a bit messed up.)               </p><p>“I do,” I said, and because it was raining outside and I had nothing else to do, “Come in.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>Baz had invited me in.</p><p>He normally made me wait outside. I started to worry that he had worked out I had been spying on him, but he didn’t seem angry, and I wasn’t scared of him anyway. I could take him in a fight. </p><p>“Tea?” he asked.</p><p>“I just want flour,” I stood behind him, he had put the kettle on and was standing facing me with his arms spread out along the counter. He couldn’t even make a cup of tea without posing like an Instagram model. Everything about him was just naturally handsome, he stood tall and proud, with shiny black hair and a face that looked as if it had been sculpted. I don’t think I had ever seen him slump his shoulders or bite his nails, his natural posture was just to be attractive.</p><p>“You seem pretty interested in coming to my door, I’m just being polite,” he said in a way that really made me think I was about to be poisoned.</p><p>“I just…it’s just polite to talk to your neighbours.”</p><p>“Did you talk to your neighbours back home?”</p><p>“Um, sort of, I grew up in care but the people who lived around were quite friendly.” I regretted telling him that, it felt like he would make fun of it the way he did with everything else.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>That surprised me. That really surprised me.</p><p>“It’s fine, I don’t really think about it much anymore,” it was a half-truth, I didn’t think about it as obsessively as I did as a kid when I had fantasies of my parents returning to drive me off into the sunset. But I thought about it whenever Penny talked about getting her parents birthday gifts, or the lads at work talked about going to visit their families at the weekend.</p><p>“Really? My mum died when I was little. I think about it all the time.”</p><p>“Oh.” I said. It might have explained somethings about him, the moodiness, the temper. “You get it then.”</p><p>“Not sure I do,” he shook his head and started pouring the tea.</p><p>“You grew up with your dad then?”</p><p>“And my step-mum and half-siblings.” He turned around to face me, “Don’t feel sorry for me.” He snapped.</p><p>“I wouldn’t feel sorry for someone with their name initialled on their tea towels,” I nodded over to the pile of neatly folded, white cloths with that stupid family seal embroidered on them in gold.</p><p>He grinned and I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be threatening. “Good.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>I couldn’t believe what I was doing.</p><p>I thought it would be entertaining to invite him in for a bit, I didn’t mean to tell him my mum had died, I don’t really talk about that with anyone. But he had talking about care and it just slipped out.</p><p>“What were you watching?” He nodded at the TV that was now showing a series of adverts for the new ITV mystery drama.</p><p>“Nothing.” I shrugged, changing the channel over to the news. It seemed a bit more respectable than the Coronation Street Omnibus I had found myself invested in.</p><p><em>He really did know how to make himself at home</em>, I thought as he sprawled all over my couch, lying on his back like some rich lord. His jumper had risen up just enough for me to catch a patch of skin, there was mole to his side that matched the ones lining his face. I wondered if his whole body was covered in those little brown buttons.</p><p>I started wondering what it was like to kiss each one of them individually. If I trailed my finger along them would they line up?</p><p>“What is it you actually do?” he blurted out, looking a little sheepish as if it were some deep secret.</p><p>“I’m a student.”</p><p>“You don’t live with friends?”</p><p>“I don’t get on well with roommates.” This was half-true, Dev and Niall had wanted their own place this year and I wanted to try out living on my own. Although the only place I could afford was a bit mankier than I would have liked, I didn’t want to complain because father would probably offer to pay for somewhere better and the point of living on my own was to be independent.</p><p>“What do you study?”</p><p>“Classics.”</p><p>“Of course you bloody do.” He muttered, and I stifled a laugh.</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“Work in construction mostly, but I’ve been taking odd jobs here and there, I’m saving up.”</p><p>That explained the muddy boots, there was an echo of a footprint in my carpet that I still hadn’t gotten out.</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“A new place, something else. I’m not sure what I want to do yet.”</p><p>I nodded. Neither did I really.</p><p>Our conversation went like that for a while, small sentences and occasional digs at each other. I’m not sure why I felt the compulsive need to fight with him but it was easy, and I couldn’t help it. I think he liked it too.</p><p>As soon as he finished his tea he left his cup next to the coaster, and announced he had to go home to bake his scones.</p><p>I handed him his flour, and something dropped in my stomach when he left. The flat was quieter now. It was always this quiet, but I had liked having a bit of company for a little while. Was better than sitting in the dark and cold reading <em>Paradise Lost</em>, but I supposed I had to get back to it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Blackout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>featuring a blackout, a few beers, and a messy bedroom</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm not sure if i got the end just right but i hope you enjoy it anyway &lt;3 one more chapter to go hehe<br/>please let me know what you think!</p><p>EDIT: I changed the rating to Teen because I think it's more that vibe (they might even drink beer this chapter) sorry to have misled you by tagging it General.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>Tea with Baz had become a weekend tradition.</p><p>I would start baking, chap on his door for some flour or sugar, or even just directly ask him for a cuppa, we would chat for a bit then I would finish up in the kitchen. It was nice, actually, I felt like Baz and me might actually be starting to get along.</p><p>Sure, we insulted each other a lot and he still glared at me occasionally but it felt less hostile now. It was just friendly banter.</p><p>He seemed happier to see me these days, I still came to his door every time I forgot something at the shop or needed to borrow a fiver for the Chinese but on Saturdays when we would chat it felt almost like we were friends. Friends who only saw each other once a week, but friends nonetheless.</p><p>He talked to me about the books he was reading for class, the weird Latin phrases he would have to learn, the girl in his lecture who always left ten minutes before the end to buy a twix from the vending machine. I would talk to him about my job, about Penny, about the guy at my work who had a bad accident and had been off with a concussion for a while. </p><p>It was nice, and today was no different. I had been over to his this morning and ended up staying for a full hour. It was maybe a bit too long, he had a book to read for Monday – Beowulf – but I would bring him over some extra scones to apologise.</p><p>The scones in question were cooling on the counter and I was debating cleaning up the gigantic mess I made perfecting my best batch yet when the power cut out. I had literally just plugged my very dead phone in so it was just me, on my own, in the darkness with the smell of baked scones and raw dough filling the air.</p><p>Feeling along the wall, I managed to make it to the hallway cupboard and find my torch.</p><p>Penny had made me put it there when I moved in, along with a whistle and a first aid kid. I had told her she was ridiculous but I made a mental note to apologise and thank her later.</p><p>I didn’t really mind the dark, I was never really scared that easily. Although it was strange not having tv or a laptop to spend time on. I had planned to facetime Penny later but I couldn’t until the power came back on and my phone charged. I suppose I could read one of the books Penny got me for Christmas? Or write a letter to someone? Maybe just an early night?</p><p>There was a knock at my door.</p><p><em>Excellent. </em>Baz was here.</p><p> </p><p>Baz</p><p>I couldn’t bloody believe it.</p><p>The storm had caused a power-cut, and I was stuck on my couch, in my freezing cesspool of a flat with Beowulf stuck between my fingers.</p><p>I thought about calling Fiona, but she would probably tell me to wise up and deal with it, and I didn’t want to annoy her anyway. Would be ridiculous to move out seeking independence and to phone home at the first sign of trouble.</p><p>But the storm wasn’t stopping, and Twitter seemed to think the power would be out for the rest of the night. Apparently the whole county had gone dark. Truly insane. Something to do with powerlines – if your building was run by British Gas you were in darkness until they could figure out how to safely fix it.</p><p>I groaned. My phone wouldn’t last all night, and I wasn’t going to sit here trying to read medieval texts in the dark.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe Snow has a torch?</em>
</p><p>It was truly a desperate time to be relying on Simon Snow for a light source, but I had no other option. I had a lighter and candles, but the smoke alarm was more sensitive than a new-born.</p><p>“Snow!” I shouted, making it to his door with my phone, keys and my copy of Beowulf.</p><p>“Yes?” He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and, to my relief torch in his hand. It lit him up just enough for me to make out a smudge of flour spread across his face.</p><p>“Do you have a torch?” I asked.</p><p>He looked down at his hand and gave the torch in it a little shake.</p><p>“I mean a spare.”</p><p>“Eh, no sorry, but you can come in if you want.”</p><p>“Okay.” I stepped inside, finding it as much as a mess as I expected. As far as I knew he was only making scones but there were at least six pots lining the counters, flour everywhere, a dirty t-shirt slung over the couch, and a pile of laundry waiting beside the machine. “Do you ever clean up after yourself, Snow?”</p><p>“It’s dark.”</p><p>“Nothing gets by you does it?” I wish I could stop myself sometimes, he was being nice but I didn’t know how else to talk to him other than thinly veiled insults.</p><p>“It should come back on soon.” He always spoke with confidence, I think I liked that about him. Even if he was wrong half the time, I liked that he thought he was right. Stubborn. Like me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>Baz Pitch had shown up at my door with a very large book and a look of sheer rage. I hadn’t seen him that angry and he was angry at me all the time.</p><p>“We could sit on the couch, you could read your book.” I offered, pointing the light at my slightly stained yellow sofa.</p><p>“Fine,” he snarled, sitting on the only side with a pillow.</p><p>“I’ll be two seconds,” I said, rushing into my room. </p><p>When I came out he was still sitting there, barely moving, staring into space.</p><p>“Sorry, I had to grab my book,” I explained, not thinking Baz would want to talk to me again. We had one entire conversation today and I didn’t expect another one until next weekend.</p><p>He nodded, and I positioned the torch on the couch in such a way that it lit half of us up at least. We had to huddle into each other a little to see the page in full, but I don’t think he minded, his skin was freezing, he must have appreciated the heat.</p><p>“What are you reading?” I asked, after a while. I was finding it hard to concentrate on my book, I kept getting distracted by Baz, who would lick his finger before turning the page and furrow his brow as he read. I couldn’t help myself, I had never seen anyone read like that outside of movies.</p><p>“Beowulf.” He barely glanced up.</p><p>“What’s it about?”</p><p>He took a long deep sigh, “It’s a heroic monomyth.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Never mind.”</p><p>“You think I’m too stupid to understand?” I felt myself getting hot under the collar. Here he was, sat in my flat, sharing my torch and implying that I was too stupid to understand a book?</p><p>“No, it’s just boring and I’m struggling to get through it.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I do think you are stupid though.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>He grinned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>What was wrong with me?</p><p>I had come here to ask for a torch to read my book and think about the lecture I had on Monday, but instead all I was thinking about was Snow’s leg bouncing beside mine, his bronze curls in the light, the heat of his arm against me.</p><p>He was always beautiful, but I had never been this much of an idiot around him before.</p><p>I thought about shoving him off the couch, of taking the torch and running out the flat as some sort of revenge for all the nuisance he had caused me. I thought about taking his scones and firing them out the window he refused to close even though it was letting rain in, of raiding his cupboards and telling him to eff off. But then I started thinking about wiping away the flour on his face with my thumb, of pressing my forehead next to his, of running my mouth right along those freckles, taking his shirt off and figuring out exactly where they led.</p><p>What the hell was wrong with me?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>Baz kept looking at me weird. I could see him staring out the corner of my eye, those grey eyes were focused on me, unblinkingly. I pretended not to notice.</p><p>I wondered if he was scared.</p><p>The lights had gone out and he had been knocking on my door within seconds, rattling it like it was some emergency. I had never seen him that frantic before, I didn’t think he could be frantic, he was so good at looking cool, in everything he did. Just so cool and smooth and slick.</p><p>But he was restless now, on edge, and I thought maybe he was secretly a bit scared, and even more secretly, a bit lonely. I still thought he was a crime boss or a vampire, but maybe not a bad one. He probably didn’t have anyone else to go to, anyone else to call. His mum was dead, and his dad had other children to look after.</p><p>He was alone, in the dark and needed someone to spend time with.</p><p>I understood that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>“I don’t think this is going to work,” I stood up from the couch. This was a bad idea, sharing a torch, sitting this close together, I regretted coming here in the first place.</p><p>“Yeah I can’t concentrate either.”</p><p>“Right so, I’ll go back home then.”</p><p>“Wait,” he shot me a puzzled look, “there is still no power.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“You just going to sit in the dark? Come on, lets go for a pint.”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“You know, a beer?”</p><p>“I know what a pint is.”</p><p>“Great, well, I’ll buy the first round.” I don’t know why he was being so friendly, it seemed to annoyingly be in his nature. He let me take his dirty work jacket too, because it was apparently imperative that we left right this second so I had no time to go grab mine.</p><p>The lights were out in the hallway, so we had fumble down the stairs a bit. Snow held the torch and I held onto the railings as we ignored the large gusts of wind threatening to break the window in.</p><p>I regretted saying yes to this as soon as I stepped outside and the wind blew the air down into my lungs. It was wet and cold and I felt like I could hardly breathe.</p><p>“Come on,” he gave me a shove.</p><p>We landed in this pub I must have walked past every day of my life but never registered. It was right between the little TESCO and the bus I get to go to uni.</p><p> “Simon!” the man behind the bar shouted as soon as we walked in. The place was small, cramped but looked absolutely packed. I guess we weren’t the only ones willing to get absolutely soaked for a pint this weekend.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>I imagined Baz to be a bit of a drink snob, one of those people who sits and sniffs at a wine and takes a good hour to drink it. Or maybe someone who insists on only drinking whiskey, neat, brooding over it in silence so as to not interfere with the taste.</p><p>Crowley, I was wrong.</p><p>We sat up in a booth near a radiator and lost track of how many pints we had downed. I started to feel a bit light headed, and I could see Baz feeling the same way. Bits of his hair had begun to rest in waves about his face, either because of the rain or because he kept drunkenly fiddling with it.</p><p>“What the hell is this?” He yelled when he put his hand in my work jacket to check my keys were still in there and discovered the stale, half eaten muffin I had forgotten about.</p><p>“You can’t blame me for being hungry!” I shouted back.</p><p>He snorted, then started chuckling at the noise he had just made. We were maybe a bit too drunk, and definitely a bit too loud, the old man across from us kept giving us death stares.</p><p>I didn’t mean for us to get like this. I thought we could have a few pints and a chat to pass the time, but he started smiling and looking like he actually might be enjoying himself and I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t ever seen him enjoying himself. Ordinarily he looked a bit sombre, or angry, or broody, it was nice to see him like this. Happy. Smiling. Carefree.</p><p>“Hear that?” I asked, giving his leg a kick under the table.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>There was music. Sean, the barman, never usually played music because it was an old man’s pub and none of the patrons could hear each other when it was up too loud.</p><p>“Don’t you play this song?” I asked, it sounded like a violin in the background. I’m sure I had heard him play something similar.</p><p>“I don’t think so,” he wrinkled up his nose.</p><p>“No wait!” I couldn’t remember where I heard it from but I started humming along, probably a little too loudly, but I was drunk and Baz was grinning at me so I refused to stop.</p><p>“Come on, you know it!” I demanded, and he started singing.</p><p>I fucking snorted.</p><p>I had never expected Baz Pitch, my neighbour with the matching dressing gown and slippers to be drunkenly singing in a pub with me.</p><p>It was nice, both of us acting like idiots as we stumbled to the bar at last orders, and I paid way too much for my final pint.</p><p>The rain was still chucking it down when Sean told us he was closing but I felt far too drunk to be walking anywhere.</p><p>“I can’t feel my legs!” I laughed, I don’t think I had stopped laughing since drink three. My head was buzzing and the ground felt all faded, like it wasn’t actually there. I was sure I could float if I let myself, but Baz’s arm was around me, holding me down.</p><p>“Me neither,” he laughed, and I slid my arm round him too.</p><p>We walked back to the flat looking like injured soldiers on the battlefield, only we were probably ten times as loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>The lights in the hallway were still off. Bad bloody sign.</p><p>Snow’s hands were inside the pockets of my jacket, searching for the torch, and once he had it out he nodded to me with a satisfied smile. How did he look this good when he was drunk enough to be pointing the torch at his face while he attempted to turn it on?</p><p>“Don’t hurt yourself,” I grabbed it off him, and found the button on the side.</p><p>His arm linked in with mine and I felt a pang in my stomach wishing it was more than some drunken reflex.</p><p>We hobbled up the stairs, our free hands clutching to the wall as we climbed.</p><p>As badly as he struggled with the torch, he was okay with the flat keys, it took a few attempts but we were in.</p><p>He seemed a little drunker than me so I thought I would make sure he got to bed and make it back to my flat on my own. His bedroom was a mess of dirty laundry, plates and empty crisp packets. I guided him towards the bed, but he stumbled over a box on the floor. I tried to stop him, but he pulled me down towards the bed with him, and we both landed on top of each other.</p><p>He gripped my waist and pushed me to the side and his hand there felt so good that all I wanted to do was push into him, wrap my arms around him and call it some drunken mistake. </p><p>We faced each other, lying so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face and my heart ached a bit at the sight.</p><p>He stared at me, smiling as he looked into my eyes and I thought he was so beautiful and so good and I lay there next to him wishing we could stay like this forever.</p><p>“Can I?” he asked. I was not sure what to expect, but I was too awestruck by how blue his eyes looked in the moonlight. Maybe he was a siren. I could hardly speak but I managed a nod and he immediately reached his hand to my forehead. Gently, he ran his fingers through my hair. His hands were warm and smooth, and they glided over my head so softly. Snow was chaos, he was always breaking things and barging into places, loud, obnoxious and forceful but here he was so so gentle. His hands in my hair were so gentle. I loved him. I really couldn't bloody help myself.<br/>
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My head tingled when he lifted away his hand. I hadn't wanted him to stop. </p><p>“It’s soft,” he hummed in surprise, a tired smile playing at the corner of his mouth.</p><p>I was too drunk to attempt to hide the blush rising in my cheeks. “It’s just hair.”</p><p>“Nice hair.”</p><p>“Thanks,”</p><p>He folded his head down a little, and I watched his eyes close and his breath soften. I was too focused on the freckles along the bridge of his nose that I didn’t notice our arms were still interlinked.</p><p>“Night Snow,” I mutter and he moaned a little in response.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. this was a bad idea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>there was only one bed and now there is consequences</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading, i really hope you enjoy the final part of this fun neighbourly concept &lt;3 </p><p>i absolutely loved writing for you banjjakbanjjak it's been a pleasure getting to know you and creating this pining mess from your prompts !! &lt;3 </p><p>please read their fic, "My Personal Snow Days" for more pining and city living !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>I wake up with Baz’s hand on my face. We had collapsed in here last night and apparently fallen quickly into a drunken slumber.</p><p>There was light streaming in from the window and I instinctively went to grab my phone that I plugged in last night. 100%. Power was back on then. I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Last night was the most fun I had had in ages.</p><p>Would things go back to normal now? Back to our neighbourly routine of borrowing food and trading insults? I didn’t want that.</p><p>He looked so peaceful when he slept, like the mean brooding neighbour thing was just an act, and this was the real him, sprawled out on his bed, as exhausted and hungover as the rest of us.</p><p>I decide to make us breakfast. Bacon buttys were the ultimate way to get rid of a hangover, my hands shook a little as I put the bacon in the pan and the oil spat at me to let me know I had it up too high. I think I was just nervous. Baz Pitch was in my bed.</p><p>I flipped the bacon over every two seconds, hoping it had magically cooked since the last time I inspected it. I couldn’t wait to surprise him with it. He was going to love it, unless he was a vegetarian. Oh no, I probably should have asked him first. Panicking, I fire some bread in the toaster, scrapping my idea for a bacon butty and replacing it with bacon on toast. If he couldn’t eat bacon he could eat the toast.</p><p>“That’s me away,” I turn to see Baz standing at the edge of my living room, keys in hand.</p><p>“I was just making breakfast,” I said, but he wasn’t looking at me. My stomach lurched, had I done something?</p><p>“It’s okay, I have to get to class.”</p><p>He wasn’t looking at me.</p><p>“Okay.” I smiled.</p><p>“See you later, then.”</p><p>Why wasn’t he looking at me?</p><p>Maybe that was it then, he didn’t want to be friends. I suppose that was fair enough, he had only come over for a torch, but I could have sworn there was something more. We were having fun. I was sure of it.</p><p>I pushed the stop button on the toaster and put the half-cooked bread back in the wrapper. I wasn’t hungry anymore.</p><p>I didn’t see him again until Wednesday. Penny was coming over to help me polish up my CV, and I was fiddling with my keys when he stepped out his flat.</p><p>His eyes widened when he locked eyes with her.</p><p>“Afternoon!” I said, cheerily.</p><p>He gave me a quick nod before bolting but I found him hanging out in the corridor when Penny left.</p><p>“Is that your girlfriend?” he asked.</p><p>“No, Penny is just a friend,” I explained, expecting some kind of conversation. I had mentioned Penny before so I thought he would ask about her, maybe be polite and ask how she was, but he just rushed back into his flat.</p><p>I wish it made sense. I kept trying to convince myself that it did, that it was normal for neighbours to not talk unless it was a special occasion like a power cut or a fire alarm. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that night, about him.</p><p>We had collapsed on the bed, our limbs all tangled, and it felt so good. I couldn’t stop staring at him, his face, his hair, his arms, he always felt so cold and I wanted to wrap myself around him. To feed the cold, because I was always running hot.</p><p>Out of drunken confidence I had dared touch his hair, had told him it was nice, and I realised that’s probably why he was avoiding me.</p><p>Because the night of the power cut I realised I wanted him. I wanted Baz Pitch.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>There is a knock at my door and I spring to my feet in excitement. It had been a while since I had talked to Snow, but then I remembered why.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He says before I can even say hello.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“For touching your hair, it was inappropriate I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”</p><p>“I…” I couldn’t believe it. He thought I was avoiding him because he touched my hair?</p><p>He was so dense. I was so in love with him and he had absolutely no idea. I would let him touch my hair, my face, my hand, my skin. I <em>wanted</em> him to touch me, to have his hands on my waist, his fingers in my hair. I couldn’t believe he was sorry for something I hadn’t been able to stop fantasying about since we met. </p><p>“Look, I am sorry, but you don’t have to be such a dick, I thought we were friends for a minute there.”</p><p>“Well we aren’t.” I snap, giving him my best glare. It’s too hard to be friends, I want him so badly, I can’t do it. I felt my stomach drop when I thought Penny was a girl he had brought home, I was so relieved when it wasn’t, and while my heart didn’t break that time, it would when it was someone real. A girlfriend, a one-night stand, a tinder date, someone perfect and happy and everything I wasn’t. It would break me, and so I had to keep avoiding him. I couldn’t keep pretending the night of the power cut was anything more than a drunken night to him. It hurt too much.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“We are just different, okay?” I say, moving to close the door. His foot stops it.</p><p>“It didn’t feel like that.” There is a new kind of frustration in his voice, and for once I hate to hear it. I missed his smile, the lilt in his voice that came after he had been laughing, the blush in his cheeks. “It felt like we were getting on.”</p><p>“We were.” I say, because I can’t lie about how good the past few weeks had been.</p><p>“What is it then? What did I do?”</p><p>“Nothing.” I shout. I hated how he was blaming himself when this was all me. “Nothing.” I say again in a whisper, and I can see his expression shift. His blue eyes widen, and I suddenly feel extremely exposed.</p><p>And then he grabs me.</p><p>His hands are balled up in my shirt and he pulls me closer so our faces collide and we are kissing like our lives depend on it. Every dream, every fantasy I had of this moment and it’s nothing like the real thing, because as soon as our lips meet I feel everything at once. Hyperaware of his hands, one still feeling up under my shirt, and the other wrapped around my waist. Hyperaware of <em>my </em>hands, running through his soft, beautiful curls, placed on his chest and feeling the heartbeat underneath.</p><p>I’m shaking.</p><p>I don’t know if I’m kissing him back because I’m still trying to work out what is happening.</p><p>I had loved him for so long, had wanted him for so long.</p><p>Simon Snow is kissing me and I feel like nothing else in the world matters.</p><p>He breaks away and I let out a soft moan before I can stop myself.</p><p>“Simon,” I mutter, and it seems to spark something in him because he grins wide and kisses me on the neck.</p><p>“Say it again.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>He stares up at me and I don’t want this moment to ever end.</p><p>“Simon,” I whisper in his ear and I feel him melt a little beneath me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Simon</span>
</p><p>I was kissing Baz Pitch.</p><p>Or rather, I had been kissing Baz Pitch, now I was on my way to work, thinking about kissing him again.</p><p>I wasn’t sure why I had done it, I just saw something in him, in his eyes, and I had to find out what it meant. I was bad with words, but kissing seemed to work, I hadn’t meant it to be quite as passionate, but when his arms wrapped themselves around me I couldn’t help myself.</p><p>I think I was in love.</p><p>All this time I had come back to his door, to see what was he was doing, to borrow things I didn’t really need. I thought it was to investigate him or because I was bored, but it was because I was so bloody in love and I was only figuring it out now.</p><p>I can’t stop thinking about him. About touching him, kissing him, seeing that smile creep up on his face. I needed to see him and I didn’t even have his number to tell him.  As soon as I was done with work I was going to his flat and start to do all the things I had been fantasising about doing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Baz</span>
</p><p>I think I was lonely before. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but I was.</p><p>Now I had Simon Snow.</p><p>We had a key to each other’s place and he would come over to my cupboard to steal food he forgot to buy and I would go to his house and force him to tidy up his laundry and shut the window when it rained. We slept curled up together, and ate dinner on the couch watching something stupid on TV.</p><p>There was always muddy footprints on my carpet, and the living room was even darker since the clocks changed, but it was hard to think about all that whilst we were wrapped up on the couch doing anything but reading.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading, i know this chapter is a bit short but every time i made it longer it just didn't read as well? anyway i really hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think!</p>
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